Urban Legend, silent night
by Arches67
Summary: (4th story of the Urban Legend series - Crossover Daredevil - Person of Interest) While walking out Bear in the evening, John stumbles upon a familiar body…


A new instalment in my Urban Legend universe, Person of Interest / Daredevil crossover.

You can blame this one on Yellowstone69. She sent me this petition requesting that I stop hurting John. I checked the fine print very carefully, nothing about Matt there…

Again thank you to Zendog for the beta reading.

* * *

 _It was the night before Christmas…_

 _The stockings were hung by the chimney with care_

 _In hopes that Santa would soon be there…_

 _The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,_

 _Gave a lustre of midday to objects below…_

Okay, so John Reese didn't exactly have stockings hanging by the chimney; he didn't have a chimney to begin with. But the thick snowflakes kept falling leisurely over the streets of New York bathing it in a magical light. The short but powerful blizzard of the afternoon had left the city eerily silent and quiet. Everybody had rushed back home and locked their doors and windows. The peace was quite unusual, considering what day it was. Not that John celebrated Christmas…

It was late. The cold and the snow fall that had started earlier had long ago sent smart people back home. In the glittering lights, the feathery flakes looked like diamonds before they settled on the city. It was quite a nice view actually, if you managed to forget the mess it would turn into in the morning and the freezing cold.

Bear was running in front of John, happily jumping and munching on the fresh snow. Short of rolling over, he was acting more like a puppy than a trained military dog.

John watched him with a smile. Seeing the dog having fun almost made up for the cold and the damp he could feel seeping in.

He and Finch took turns walking the dog every day, but this slippery weather was not good for the older man. Furthermore, a dog like Bear needed more exercise than a quick walk around the block. With their crazy schedules and work, running the dog was almost impossible. Shrugging deeper in his coat, he let the dog play in the snow and resigned himself to freeze his feet off.

Bear suddenly dashed away madly, sped down an alley and started barking.

"Bear, leave the cats alone!" John ordered.

The usually obedient dog kept barking. Shaking his head, John caught up with him. Bear was barking at a dark shape in the snow. Definitely not a cat.

Getting closer, John easily identified a human shape, covered in a thin layer of white flakes of snow. Frowning in sadness, John crouched to the ground. Another homeless soul victim to the cold New York weather. Looking for the neck to check a pulse, John was surprised to find some sort of hood covering the head.

"What the…" He brushed the snow away, unveiling a body covered in a red and black suit.

"Matt?" he exclaimed in surprise.

What was Daredevil doing here? The vigilante usually didn't leave Hell's Kitchen. Slipping his fingers under the hood, he found the pulse. Dangerously slow but there. The skin was cold underneath the suit, which was totally soaked.

Looking to the side, it wasn't difficult to guess where Matt had been. They were by the river shore.

"A bit cold to go swimming, don't you think?" John mumbled.

He ran his hands over the body checking for major injuries. Even with his gloves on, he could tell the wetness oozing from several spots was blood.

"I thought this costume was supposed to protect you... Matt, wake up," he ordered in a loud voice slapping the face lightly.

He almost fell on his backside when Matt suddenly moved and threw a wild punch, missing his face by only millimetres.

"Hey! It's me, John," John said putting a hand to the man's shoulder.

The following punch caught him square in the jaw and Matt was up on his feet in a fighting stance.

Disorientation was fairly normal in cases of hypothermia. There was no easy way out of this.

"I hope you won't remember this," John said knocking out Matt with a powerful punch.

The young man crumbled to the ground. Bear gave a little whine and licked his face.

"He's okay Bear. Let's get him indoors."

Matt obviously needed to go to a hospital, but the suit he was wearing made it a bad idea. Taking him back to his place was way too far and anyway Murdock already knew where they were hidden. Covering the young man with his own coat, he hefted him in a fireman's hold, and took the way back to the subway station.

"Sorry Bear. Your walk just got cancelled."

The dog didn't seem to mind that much and trotted happily back toward their hidden quarters.

* * *

John entered the subway station carrying Matt over his shoulder. The lawyer was lean but heavy, a testimony to his muscles.

Finch opened his eyes wide when he saw the ex-agent arriving.

"Oh dear. What happened?"

"Bear found him by the river."

"Is he…?"

"No. But that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet. He's freezing."

"Mr. Reese?" Finch asked in a worried tone. He was looking at the blood drops on the tiles.

"Yes, I know. Could you get me the first aid kit? And as many blankets as you can find. We need to warm him up."

Finch moved as fast as his leg allowed him, and John laid Matt on a table. He started looking for a zipper but couldn't find any. He removed the head mask.

"You should consider keeping a notice on you," he muttered to the unconscious face. "How do you get out of this thing…"

Finally finding the hidden clasps, John managed to get the lawyer out of his costume. He inspected the material briefly. It seemed quite sturdy, but it obviously didn't stop bullets… or…

"What happened to him?" Finch exclaimed in an astonished voice.

"By the looks of it I'd say he went through a window," John commented looking at the various cuts on the body.

"Of course you would know…" Finch muttered, wondering which of the two men was worse. Maybe these two were meant to become close. God knows they put their own lives on the line more than they should.

John shook his head in dismay. This was one of the times he missed Shaw the most. This kind of damage needed a real doctor. Of course, taking Matt to a hospital was out of the question, so he had to hope that his own skills would be sufficient. Hopefully, Matt would recover. If not, then maybe John could manage to rouse him enough to ask for Claire's number. Although the nurse had probably other plans for Christmas Eve.

Matt had miraculously escaped from any serious bullet wound, but between the grazes and the cuts made by glass, he was a mess. That suit of his apparently didn't protect him from everything. Cleaning, stitching when necessary and applying butterfly strips took a long time. The young man was totally unresponsive, not even shivering. Not good. John sighed deeply when he applied the last bandage.

Finch handed him some sweats and thick socks that he had found in a closet. John raised an eyebrow in surprise. This wasn't the kind of clothes either one of them used.

"Ms. Groves, I assume," Finch explained with a wince.

Once he had him in the clothes, John moved Matt to the couch and started piling the blankets over him.

"You don't happen to have warm water bottles in here, do you? It would help to raise his body temperature."

Finch scrunched his eyes for a second and disappeared in the back of the subway station. A few minutes later, John heard the familiar ding of the microwave oven and Finch came back.

"Microwavable neck warmer. I use it when…" Finch's voice trailed. No need to get into details. They never discussed his disability and back problems.

"Perfect!" John thanked him, managing to stretch the warmer to reach both armpits.

Making sure Matt was as covered as they could possibly get him, John stood by his side looking at the young man. What had happened to him? He had told John that he never left Hell's Kitchen, what was he doing downtown then? The only thing that made sense was that he had fallen into the river and been carried away by the current. The water was freezing this time of year. That Matt had managed to get out was unbelievable.

"Mr. Reese?" Finch called cautiously.

"Yes, Finch."

"You have done everything you could for Mr. Murdock. Now we can only wait."

"Yes…"

"You are quite cold yourself. I don't have any more blankets to spare," Finch added hoping the attempt at humor would somehow hide his worry. John hadn't probably noticed but he was shivering. He had removed his coat to cover Matt by the river, coming back under the snow in only his jacket. His boots and pants legs were soaked.

"Healer, heal thyself?"

"Something like that," Finch answered with a small smile. "There are clothes your size in the closet. Go get changed, I'll keep an eye on Mr. Murdock."

* * *

Finch had found a small heater that he had brought closer to the couch on which Matt was lying. Bear had put his head over the man's feet; probably considering that since he had found him he held some responsibility of his own.

John was reading a book close enough to get to Matt quickly. He was a bit worried by the reaction of the young man when he woke up. Disorientation was going to get worse before he realized he was in safe hands.

Matt woke up with a gasp that turned into a moan when his various injuries made themselves known. He jerked upright, disoriented. He couldn't identify the space around him. All the noises were wrong, and awfully loud. Panic seized him. Where was he?

A hand touched his shoulder and he flinched.

"Matt, it's me John. You are safe. Calm down; everything is fine."

The young man turned his head towards the voice, his eyes wide open as if it would somehow help him. He opened his mouth to talk but couldn't get enough air to do it.

John frowned in worry and rose from his chair. He put both hands on Matt's shoulders pushing him softly back down.

"Matt, listen to me. Try to breathe normally. I found you outside freezing and brought you here to warm you up. Relax, everything is fine."

Still panting, Matt kept his face toward John, eyes more or less in his direction.

"John." he croaked.

"Yeah," John answered, relieved that the lawyer had finally recognized him.

Matt closed his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control, but couldn't bring himself to settle down. Everything hurt, everything was loud, his clothes were rubbing against his skin. He brought his hands to his ears with a moan and tried to curl up into a ball, which only woke up the dozens of knives in his body. He couldn't help a pained whimper.

John sat on the edge of the couch, trying to get Matt to lay still.

"Matt, listen to me. You've been hurt. Try not to move, it will only make things worse."

"What happened?" Matt managed to ask between gasps.

"I found you in the snow. Freezing, hurt… We are at the subway station, you've been here before."

"Loud…" Matt half sobbed, thrashing his head on the pillow.

How could it be loud? John wondered. They were underground; difficult to be anywhere more silent in New York.

"Matt, we're underground. There are no noises here…"

Or rather, John thought, no noises for normal ears. The hum of Finch's computer, their ventilation system, the rumble of the trains… Matt had apparently lost the control of his senses and was overwhelmed. How could he help the young man?

"Do you need ear plugs?" he asked in a low voice.

"Talk."

"What?"

"Talk. Helps focus."

John straightened his back in surprise and a bit of annoyance. He wasn't the talking kind. What did Matt want him to talk about?

"Please…"

"Okay…" John answered quickly. "You realize that talking is not my strong suit? You are the lawyer; I'm a man of action. I usually prefer actions to words. I really don't know what I could tell you about."

Matt let out a pained chuckle. "Obviously not what you do here. I get that. Pick something safe. I need something to focus on. Your voice helps."

"First time I've heard that one," John muttered.

"Girlfriends," Matt suggested. "I'm sure your dark side is like a magnet to them…"

John froze and for a minute was glad that Matt's senses were shot to hell because his heart had just jumped up. This was not a subject he wanted to discuss, but a new moan from Matt had him relent.

"Her name was Jessica…" His voice broke slightly, just like every time he thought about her. He took a deep breath and went on. "I met her when I was still in the military. She was beautiful. Fair hair, clear eyes and the sweetest smile ever. She was brave too. And patient, waiting for me between tours. I loved her…"

Slowly, the words came out more easily. He had never really talked to anyone about his love for Jessica. The topic was too painful, but he was finding that remembering her after all this time was pleasant. He had so many good memories from the good times, from before everything had turned into a nightmare.

"I finally decided that I didn't want to be apart from her and resigned. I took her down to Mexico to let her know the news." His throat tightened and he fell silent.

"What happened?" Matt asked softly.

"The towers came down that day." So many lives had changed that fateful day... "I went back. I just couldn't not do something. I couldn't stay on the sidelines. She understood of course, she always did; but something broke."

Then life had really changed for him. From soldier to black ops spy and a life he would never talk about to anyone.

"I met her at an airport a few years later. She was engaged but she told me she'd wait for me if only I asked her to. She had always been the brave one in our couple. I didn't have the courage to talk..."

When John had named Jessica, Finch had frozen up. He knew how badly everything had gone. He still felt responsible for what had happened. Even if of course he couldn't have done anything back then. But listening to John talk was too much like eavesdropping.

He moved to the train wagon with a sudden idea. Of course, the level of noise in their place was not something that you needed to take action against. But Murdock's senses were acting up, probably due to the combination of exposure and injuries.

White noise generators were usually meant for people working in noisy areas. But if he could find a way to rig something on the proper wave length, maybe that could help the young man.

It would also give him something to do. Listening to John was a bit too painful and close to home. He could relate all too well. Of course Grace wasn't dead, but that didn't make much of a difference on his everyday life. At least, compared to John, he had had the chance to tell her how much he loved her. To propose to her. John's only solace had been to kill the man responsible for Jessica's death.

Tuning out the voice of his employee as much as possible, he concentrated on the device that Root had brought someday for only God knew what reason, not that he was going to complain now. A while later, he rose from his chair and went towards the two men.

"So I proposed to her on the bridge by Tudor City Place."

"She went for it?" Matt asked with a chuckle.

"Oh yes. Playing married couple in the suburbs was really fun. So different from both our lives."

"I bet."

Finch allowed himself a chuckle. Talking about Zoe was certainly another story. They were rather discreet about it, but he was pretty sure that John and Zoe were more than occasional "business" partners. He liked the fixer. She was smart, quick thinking and would never take any bullshit from John. She was good for him.

"Mr. Murdock," Finch interrupted in a low voice.

"Hey Finch. Didn't even know you were there."

"I may have found a way to help you with the noise. I just wanted to let you know before I activate the device."

Murdock turned his head toward the older man. Focusing on John's voice had helped, a lot. But his control was silk thin, the tension in his body exhausting. He was going to lose it pretty soon again.

"Go ahead."

Finch flipped a button and everything vanished. As if the world had suddenly been swallowed by a huge cotton ball. He gasped and grabbed the blanket on his body, feeling like he was falling, almost drowning. He opened his mouth to breathe.

"Matt?" John asked in the lowest possible voice. He had trouble identifying if the man was actually feeling better or not. Considering the strain he had been under, his body was probably having trouble sorting out the difference between pain and well-being.

Matt shook his head.

"Fine," he managed to say. The relief was making him dizzy. "Oh God," he moaned. "Thank you," he whispered almost sobbing.

"Well done, Finch. As usual." John turned to the IT genius with a smile.

Finch put the device on the small table by the couch and looked at Matt. The lawyer had a relaxed face and his eyes were closed.

"Mr. Reese your patient has fallen asleep. Why don't you cover him up? I'm pretty sure his body temperature is still below what it should be."

Putting back the blankets over Matt, John scratched his throat. "Finch, about…"

"I will need to remember to thank Ms. Groves for bringing this device in the first place. Tuning it wasn't easy, but I'm glad my efforts proved useful," Finch explained looking him right in the eyes.

John gave him a small smile. None of them would ever mention what John had talked about to Matt. Some topics were just better left ignored. Both of them could live with their burdens of silence.

* * *

Waking up to complete silence was not an experience he was used to. It turned out to be even scarier than not seeing. Matt shot upright with a gasp trying to orient himself. He was used to feel the world around him through the sounds. But the utter silence was something he had never experienced, worse than not seeing. He couldn't tell where he was or what was going on. He inhaled deeply trying to keep the rising panic at bay; and moaned when he felt some stitches pull.

Right. He had been hurt. John had patched him up. A hand touched his shoulder softly.

"Matt, breathe, everything is fine," John said in a muted voice.

"God, is this going to keep happening?" he muttered.

"Back with us?"

"What's going on? First everything was too loud and now I can't hear anything. I don't know what's worse."

"Finch rigged a white noise generator. Do you want me to turn it off?"

"Yes, please. This is worse than not seeing."

John turned the switch off and Matt let out a scream taking his hands to his ears.

"Matt?" John enquired.

The young man shook his head, eyes scrunched shut, breathing deeply. The sudden assault had surprised him, but he knew how to do this. Just put back everything in place, tune the noises to the background and focus only on the necessary ones. He let himself fall back on the couch, controlling his breathing back to normal.

After a few minutes, he smiled in relief.

"Better?" John asked.

"Yeah, thanks."

He remained silent a moment, letting his body adjust. He turned his head to John. "I'm pretty sure I already asked this, but what happened?"

"I found you outside playing Frosty the Snowman."

"Oh…" Matt shivered. "That certainly explains why I feel so cold."

"Here, drink this, it'll help you warm up," John said handing Matt a mug of soup, that Finch had brought.

"You know, when you offered to go out and have a drink together, I hadn't envisioned tomato soup."

"It is chicken soup. And I'm not giving you a drink you could actually keep cool with your own body." Matt laughed softly and inhaled the cup.

"Oh, this is real soup…" he exclaimed.

"I figured you hated instant soup. It probably tastes like packaging to you."

Finch had actually offered to go out and get some food for the evening, realizing they were going to be stuck inside for a while. The hot soup had seemed a good idea to help warm up their patient.

"Something like that, yes. Thank you, I appreciate it." He drank some of the soup. "As for my being an ice cube, I'm thawing, don't worry. I can actually feel my leg dripping," he joked.

John half smiled then realized Matt hadn't totally meant it as a figure of speech. He worriedly uncovered Matt's legs. Sure enough one of the cuts was bleeding.

"Damn," he whispered. "You're not dripping, you're bleeding Matt."

The young man sniffed the air, then frowned. "Right. There's so much blood scent in the air, I hadn't realized there was fresh one too…"

John started taking care of the cut, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You were so cold, you weren't bleeding that bad when I got you here." He raised his head to look at Matt's face. "It actually saved your life. You would have bled to death otherwise. How did you manage to get that badly hurt?"

"Automatic weapon, window, river…" He frowned thinking about it. "Yeah, that about covers it," he explained.

John didn't insist on getting more details. The truth wouldn't change the outcome. If Matt didn't want to talk about it, he probably had his reasons.

"I should be able to fix this with butterfly strips. Lord knows I have done enough stitching on you to set up my own tailor shop."

Matt chuckled. "That bad?" he asked before taking another sip of his soup.

"You can't feel it?"

"Everything hurts," he admitted. "I don't feel like checking where or how much."

"You got your senses back in control?"

"Yes. Thank you again for your help."

"No problem."

"I realize you told me pretty personal stuff. I won't talk about it."

"I'm not worried," John answered confidently, covering Matt's legs back up with the blanket.

"What were you doing outside in such a weather anyway?" John asked. "You may have the right color, but that's not the proper suit for Christmas night."

"Yeah, never met Santa on the roof tops either…"

John shot him a dark stare then winced realizing it was useless. Talking with Matt needed actually more talking than was usually necessary with ordinary people. He had never stopped to think how much meaning body language conveyed.

But as usual, the young man seemed to perfectly catch on John's thoughts and smiled slightly.

"I hadn't planned on going outside. I was hoping the snow would keep everyone locked in. Guess cold isn't enough to stop thugs." Matt wrapped the blanket more snuggly around his shoulders. "I heard screams. It turned out that what I thought was only an issue over a delayed payment was more serious than that. The snow muffles sounds quite efficiently. I hadn't realized it also changes smells. I thought they were dealing drugs, turns out it was automatic weapons…"

John raised his head in alarm. "How…"

"Sheer luck. I managed to knock out some of the lights and when they started firing I just got the hell out."

"Out as in through a window…"

"I hadn't planned the plunge in the river though." Matt shivered as he remembered the shock. "It quite effectively numbed the pain from the grazes, but…"

"How did you manage to get out of the water?"

"Honestly? I can't remember. Probably just sheer survival instinct…"

"You're lucky Bear found you."

"I guess I should get him a huge bone…"

The dog raised his head when he heard his name and gave a little bark.

"I think he agrees with you," John commented in amusement.

Matt moved the blanket over his shoulders again.

"Is something wrong?" John asked watching him.

"See, I knew you had some super senses of your own."

"The way you are fidgeting… it's not just the cold."

"No…" Matt sighed. "There's a piece of glass in my shoulder. Right underneath the stitches."

John had left the first aid kit by the couch. He bent over to retrieve him. "Anything else you need to tell me?"

Murdock sighed, closed his eyes and focused on his body. Band aids, butterfly strips, stitches, some a bit too tight, but he could hardly blame the man. Stitching his skin must have been like sewing through wood considering how cold he was. Bruises, that shard of glass on the shoulder… Overall the worst part was the lingering cold that he could still feel deep in his bones. He'd give an arm for a hot shower; make that a hot tub.

"Besides the cold, you mean?"

"Your body temperature is still a bit under what it should be, so nothing surprising there." He pointed to Bear who had cautiously put his head at the end of the couch. "Bear makes a nice warm blanket but considering your injuries I wouldn't recommend it. He's quite heavy."

Matt turned his head toward the dog and sniffed tentatively. Yep, just as he was suspecting he was coming down with a cold. Hardly surprising considering his lengthy swim in the Hudson River, but it threw his sense of smell off. Which was probably a good thing. He liked animals, but Bear probably stank of wet dog.

"Oh, shoot," Finch exclaimed. "With your sense of smell, Bear must be a real nuisance. Sorry, I didn't think about it. We're quite used to his smell."

Matt thanked him with a smile. "I can't smell much of anything right now, so it's okay. He is keeping my feet warm…"

He shivered when John removed the blanket and opened the zipper of the sweat top.

John removed the bandage covering the stitches and touched the wound cautiously.

"Under here?" he asked.

"Yes." Matt sighed deeply and relaxed his shoulders. "Approximately an inch under the skin, slightly to the right of the stitches."

"Who needs an X-ray…" John muttered.

He cut the stitches carefully then disinfected the tweezers.

"This is going to hurt," he warned.

"No kid…" Matt hissed as John probed the wound looking for the stray piece of glass. He fisted the blanket in his hand and forced himself to breathe deeply. "A bit more to the right and slightly deeper," he instructed.

"Got it," John said, as he felt a rasp against his tool. He tried to ignore the light moans Matt couldn't hold back as he pulled the shard out; reopening the wound that started oozing blood again.

"Thanks," Matt sighed in relief, only to hiss again when John applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

"Almost done. Why didn't you tell me about this?" John asked, more to distract Matt than anything. The lawyer loved his secrets.

"As I told you, I am focusing strongly on not feeling anything. I only felt it when I started moving."

"I never thought I would say this, but you're worse than John," Finch commented.

John shot him a disgruntled look that Finch only shrugged off. "You know I'm right," he explained. "Must be a hidden clause in your vigilante job description," he mused.

"I'm not a vigilante!" John shot back.

Matt chuckled, amused by the exchange. "Foggy calls me a superhero."

"Well…" John started.

"I'm not a superhero!" Matt insisted.

"Still have the suit, though."

"You guys should make up your minds about this," Matt muttered under his breath.

"Sorry?"

Matt snorted. "I used to go out with just a black mask over my head, dark pants and t-shirt, which admittedly wasn't very efficient in terms of body armor. Everybody kept calling me out about it. So I had to find something different, offering some sort of protection."

He raised his head. "What did you do with my suit, by the way?"

"I hung it in the back to let it dry," Finch provided.

"Where did you get it?" John asked. "I examined the material, quite surprising."

"Fisk had his suits lined with it. I tracked down his supplier and broke a deal with him."

"Did he know you are blind? You obviously don't need the holes for your eyes."

"Yeah, I may have not pointed that out."

"Do you even know what you look like in that thing? I mean, horns, Matt?"

The young man chuckled. "I find them fitting. After all, people started calling me the Devil of Hell's Kitchen long before I had my suit."

John felt there was something deeper that Matt wasn't telling him.

"I'm not much of a religious man, and I certainly don't know that much about Catholicism, but isn't the devil something you fight against?"

"Lucifer used to be an angel before he was condemned."

Did Matt see himself as a fallen angel? John wondered. That didn't make much sense.

"My grandmother used to say the Murdock's had the devil in them. She was right. We have that darkness that suddenly needs to come out. I'm trying to put it to good use…"

"But you still feel guilty about it. That's something you Catholic guys are very good at."

"Yeah," Matt replied with a wince.

Silence fell between the two men. Clearly Matt didn't want to talk about the subject, John wouldn't insist. As usual, they had to pick their discussion topics very carefully.

Finch brought a new mug. "Some more soup, Mr. Murdock?" he offered.

"Yes, thank you. Call me Matt, Harold."

"Good luck with that," John mumbled.

Matt raised an interrogative eyebrow.

"It's going to take a bit more than de-thawing you to reach that level of confidence," John whispered conspiratorially.

Matt rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, rubbing a tender spot.

"Did you punch me?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah… well… You did hit me first…" John answered with a guilty smile. "I'm sorry, but you were pretty out of it and you fought me when I found you by the river."

"Can't remember any of it."

"Disorientation is quite common with hypothermia." John rose to his feet. "Get some rest, you need it."

* * *

"How are you feeling, Mr. Murdock?" Finch asked.

"Much better, thank you Finch, and warm, which is _way_ underrated."

"You might want to consider getting a suit for the winter," John suggested.

Matt chuckled slightly, "yeah, with fleece lining."

"Or water resistant if you plan on taking dives in the Hudson River again," John joked.

Finch came back with a tray carrying three cups.

John took two cups, handing one to Matt and sniffed it. "Egg nog, Finch?"

"Well, it is Christmas, after all…" Finch answered with a light shrug.

Matt raised his glass in a toast. "Thank you for your help guys, and merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Matt," John said softly.

"Merry Christmas," Finch repeated raising his cup in answer.

 _I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,_

 _"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"_

* * *

The end

* * *

Okay, so this wasn't supposed to be a Christmas story when I began. Guess the snow in the first lines and the first Christmas decorations coming up in the stores impacted the outcome… Hope you enjoyed it though.

Happy holidays to all of you!

And yes, Matt and John will get to go out and have a drink together. Stay tuned!


End file.
